Deadly Choices
by dawn341
Summary: Simon must make a choice about who is to live and who is to die. Originally published in Sentry Post 4


Deadly Choices by Dawn Cunningham

Disclaimers:

Most of the characters in this story belong to Pet Fly Productions. I'm just borrowing them and not getting paid for it.

Do not post or publish this story anywhere else, without my express permission. Feel free to share it with others as long as the disclaimers remain intact.

This story was originally published in Sentry Post 4

I wrote this story many years ago.

* SENT * SENT * SENT * SENT * SENT

Captain Simon Banks stifled a yawn as he struggled to remain alert on his way home from work. It had been a long day, but that was nothing unusual. He glanced at the dashboard clock. 1:18 a.m. As he pulled into his driveway, he spotted a strange car on the opposite side of the street. Nothing unusual there, either. Probably his neighbor having another of her male 'friends' over for the night. The woman went through men like they were going out of style. She'd even dropped some very unsubtle hints to Simon, but he wasn't biting. He liked his women to be a little more selective. Maybe he should introduce her to Blair...

Chuckling to himself at the images that thought produced, Simon climbed out of his car. He cursed himself for not being more alert a moment later when he felt the unmistakable touch of a gun being jabbed into his back.

"Don't move," a female voice ordered him coldly. "I know how to use this and I'm not afraid to do so."

Simon froze for a moment, debating silently as to whether he could disarm her without getting shot, but decided against it. Hands shoved him forward.

"Assume the position," the voice said. "I'm sure you know how."

Simon obeyed. She kicked his feet wider apart, forcing him to rest more of his weight on his hands, making it almost impossible to fight back. She frisked him, removing his gun, cell phone, and his handcuffs. She seemed to know all the right moves as one cuff was fastened around his right wrist. She pulled the arm back, applying pressure to keep him in place before pulling the other arm back and clicking the handcuff around the left wrist. For a brief moment the pressure from the gun had disappeared, but off balance, he couldn't do anything.

"Who are you? And what do you want?" he demanded angrily.

"Shut up." A blow to his back almost caused him to drop to his knees. "If you wake up your neighbors, I'll kill you and them, too. Now, come on." She pulled his arm, pressing the gun into his back again. She led him across the street to the car he'd spotted earlier and opened the passenger door. "Get in," she ordered.

Moving awkwardly with his hands cuffed behind his back, Simon struggled to obey. It didn't help that he was so tall and the car was so small. Once inside, he struggled to stay calm as she wrapped the seatbelt and shoulder harness around him. As she leaned over him, he tried to trap her against the dashboard, but she had the leverage to force him back in his seat. She finished fastening the seatbelt, shut his door and went around to the driver's side and got in.

She started the car, turned the headlights on, and pulled away from the curb. Simon studied her in the dim light from the dashboard. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, dark hair worn short, about 5'7" he guessed. Maybe 130 pounds. She was dressed all in black. Simon knew it wasn't a good sign when you saw your captor - that usually meant a kidnap victim wouldn't be set free.

Simon scanned his memory for a clue as to why this was happening. Ransom was obviously out. He didn't have enough money to make it worthwhile and he seriously doubted his ex-wife would pay to get him back. He wasn't working on any hot cases right now - at least not any that his disappearance would change the outcome of. No court dates scheduled for over two weeks, so she wasn't trying to stop him from testifying, either.

The worst part of the whole thing was that nobody would even realize he'd been grabbed for several days unless she contacted someone. He'd planned on taking the next few days off, since things had been slow at Major Crime. It was why he'd worked late tonight - trying to clear up everything so there would be no reason to be summoned back to work. Daryl wouldn't even be looking for him - he and Joan were visiting some of her relatives in Chicago.

Things were not looking good.

"You want to tell me what this is all about?" Simon tried again.

"You'll find out soon." She didn't even bother looking at him, just kept driving.

Frustrated, Simon looked out the front window. They were getting into the warehouse district now. Lots of places to hide bodies down here. Plus, with it being a weekend, there wouldn't be many people around - at least not the kind who would help him if he could attract their attention. In fact, many of them would probably offer to help *her*. Cops were not appreciated down here.

Finally, the car pulled up to a warehouse. She pressed a button on a remote control clipped to her visor and the door slowly raised. Once she had clearance, she drove the car inside and pressed the button again. Simon didn't need to look back to know the door had shut behind them.

She unfastened his seatbelt, got out of the car and came around to his door, opened it and grabbed at his arm, aiming her gun at him again. "Let's go."

As she led him across the floor, Simon knew he had to try something. He threw his body towards her, hoping to knock her down, but she anticipated the move and stepped aside. Simon crashed to the floor, knocking the wind out of himself.

"That wasn't a very smart move," she mocked him. "Now, get up." She waved the gun in his direction.

Simon slowly climbed to his feet. She didn't come closer, just pointed her gun towards an open door. "That way."

Knowing he'd blown his last chance, Simon headed for the door. Once inside the room, the sight that greeted his eyes caused him to come to a standstill. A lone chair sat in the middle of the room with a table in front of it. A clock and a stack of paper were on the table, and photographs adorned the wall facing the chair.

Dozens of them.

Of Major Crime's personnel.

"Over there," she ordered, shoving him towards the chair. "And sit down, arms behind the chair."

Simon obeyed, his mind busy trying to figure out what was going on. He awkwardly sat down, straining to get his cuffed wrists around the back of the chair. Dimly, he was aware of her walking behind him and the clanking of chains, but his eyes were glued to the wall. A sudden jerk to his wrists brought his attention back to her. He tried to move and realized she must have either chained him to the chair or maybe, somehow, to the floor. He struggled to pull his wrists up, but nothing happened. It must have been the floor or he would have felt the chair move.

She came around to the side of the chair, and he looked over at her. She held some rope and, despite his struggles, secured his right ankle to the back leg of the chair. He couldn't use his feet to kick out at her since she stayed to the side. If she'd only stood in front instead...

A moment later his left ankle had been tied down, as well. Simon struggled briefly, but he was securely fastened down with no leverage to do anything about it.

After securing him, she walked around and stood in front of him. Her steady gaze was slightly unnerving, but Simon refused to look away. The battle of wills continued for what seemed forever.

"So, you're Captain Simon Banks," she finally muttered. "I somehow pictured you differently. The way my brother described you, I thought you would have struck me dead with a single glance. But, here you are, an ordinary guy. What a disappointment," she mocked.

"What do you want?" Simon asked again, wondering who her brother was. Which criminal had he put away that had a sister intent on revenge?

"Tell me something, Captain." The way she sneered his title made him want to smack her. "How difficult is it for you to send one of your men into a dangerous situation, knowing they might die?"

"It's not easy," Simon replied, honestly, "but, sometimes, it has to be done."

"But it's much easier to send, say, a uniformed officer instead of one of your own team, isn't it?" she asked.

"No, it's not easy in any case," Simon insisted. "I don't want anyone to die."

"You're lying!" she screamed at him. "I think you protect your team by sending someone else to do the dirty work. That's what you did with my brother! Admit it! You knew it was dangerous, so you picked someone you didn't care about."

"I don't know what you're talking about, lady!" A shiver ran up and down his spine at her outburst. Who was her brother? Simon struggled to recall any uniformed officers who had died recently. Then he remembered. "You're Dave Hamilton's sister?"

"So, you do remember," she replied. "Yes, I'm his sister and you're responsible for his death."

Simon thought back to the events surrounding the officer's death. It had happened more than six months earlier. Hamilton and his partner, Rogers, had followed fleeing bank robbers to a warehouse, but had not attempted to enter the building until backup arrived. Another squad car had joined them there as well as Ellison, Sandburg, Rafe, Brown, Taggert and himself. Simon had stayed outside along with the officers from the second squad car. The rest had gone in to search the building.

Since it was Hamilton and Rogers who had followed the suspects there, Simon allowed them to go in first. Unfortunately, the door had been booby-trapped and Hamilton had suffered the full force of the bomb. His partner had also been seriously injured - he would never walk again.

"I remember your brother. He was a fine officer," Simon said. "It was a shame that he died. He had a fine career ahead of him."

"He's dead and it's your fault! It should have been one of your team that went first! It should have been one of your team that died!"

"I'm sorry your brother is dead, but it wasn't my fault. It was their collar and, by rights, they should have gone in first. We were there to support them. None of us knew the door would be booby-trapped."

"Lies! All lies! I'm a cop! I know what standard protocol is. Senior officers always go first."

"That might be true in your department, but that's not the case here," Simon replied. "We give everyone the opportunity to prove their worth. We don't try to steal someone else's credit."

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter, because you're going to pay."

"Do you really think killing me is going to make you feel better? Give you revenge for your brother's death?"

She moved to where she could look him in the eyes. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to kill one of your men," she replied coldly. "And you're going to tell me which one it will be."

Simon looked at her in disbelief. "Are you crazy?" he asked, before realizing that probably wasn't the most appropriate thing to say. "Why would I do that?"

"Let me explain." She picked up a stack of photographs from the table and laid them out in front of him, keeping one in her hand. Ellison, Rafe, Brown, Taggert. "One of these men should have died that night. Tell me which one it should have been and I'll kill him."

"Lady, I'm not going to choose anyone," Simon spit back. "If you want to kill someone, pick him yourself."

"I thought you might feel that way." She smirked at him. "I was originally going to add this one to the stack, too." She placed the last photo down on the table. It was Sandburg's.

"He's not a cop!" Simon protested.

"I know. I found that out. If you refuse to pick one of your men, I'm going to kill him." She tapped a red-painted fingernail on Sandburg's photo. "Originally, I was going to use your son, but I decided it wasn't fair to kill a child. You have two hours to decide." She picked up the clock, twisted some knobs on the back, then set it down where he could see it. She turned and walked away, shutting the door behind her as she left the room.

Simon shifted his eyes from the photos on the table in front of him to the closed door of the room. A surge of rage flooded through him and he struggled against his bonds again, but accomplished nothing except aching wrists and ankles. He turned his attention back to the photos.

How could he select one of his men to die this way? No - one of his friends! It was one thing to know any order he gave on the job might cause one of them to die in the line of duty, but it was different to pick one of them out like this. Refusal to do so wasn't an option. In his mind, Sandburg was one of them, but he was still a civilian. How many times had he told the young anthropologist he wasn't a cop?

But was it right to sentence someone else to death just to save Sandburg's life? Still, he had a sneaking suspicion that if his team were here and he asked for volunteers, every one of them would step forward. Likewise, if Sandburg was here, he'd probably tell them no way - that no one was going to die in his place.

He was in a no-win situation. Someone was going to be killed, no matter what he did. Could he live with himself if he refused to make the choice and Sandburg did die? Could he live with himself if he chose someone else to die in Sandburg's place?

Would the rest of his men hate him? Look at him with loathing, knowing he sentenced one of them to death? Could he trust them to watch his back in dangerous situations ever again?

Or would they understand? Know that he had no choice? Agree that Sandburg had been worth it? Could he ever look at his team again, without feeling guilty?

And what about Sandburg? What would this do to him? How would he feel knowing that Simon had sacrificed one of his men to save his life? It didn't take much imagination to picture the wounded look on the young man's face. Or the guilt that would fill those blue eyes.

Damn, he could use a cigar right now!

He looked at the photos again. He was as close, in some ways, to these men as he was to his son. He cared for them all the same way. How could he make this kind of choice?

Should he use seniority - longest one with the department? That would be Joel. But he was married and had a family, somehow that didn't seem right. All the rest were single men. He could select the one with the least seniority. That would be Rafe. But the man was still young, he had a promising career ahead of him, it would be a such a waste to lose him this way.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized there was only one logical choice, and it was the hardest one to make.

Jim Ellison.

Jim had the best chance of surviving because of his Sentinel skills. Jim was Blair's best friend. Blair was a part of this because of Jim's Sentinel abilities. Even worse, Jim might not be able to survive without Blair there to guide him.

But Jim was the best of the best! He'd been one of his best detectives even before his Sentinel talents had emerged. Okay, so he'd been a loner before he met Blair - a bit rough around the edges - but still the best. And now, he had special skills that no one else had. Was it right to risk losing him?

Jim was his best friend. The person he talked to when his divorce papers finally came through. They'd gone fishing together. Camping together.

Jim had saved his life - more times than he liked to think about. The detective had flown all the way to Peru to rescue him and his son. Then there had been the time when Quinn had taken him hostage during his escape. Jim had tracked them through the woods and saved his life twice that day. Not to mention the high school reunion - he never would have been able to get out of that hotel alive if it hadn't been for Jim.

Hell, the man had even saved his sanity quite a few times, too. Like when he found out Daryl was being held hostage in the police station. If Jim hadn't been there to talk some sense into him, who knows what would have happened that day. It had been the first time he'd seen Jim's Sentinel talents at work - not that he knew it at the time.

Simon sighed. This would have been so much easier if Jim had been the same person he was when Simon had come on board to head up the Major Crime division. Jim had been a cop with the bad attitude back then. Of course, he probably wouldn't have survived this long if he had remained that way.

With a deep pang of regret, Simon knew he'd made up his mind. He glanced at the clock and saw he didn't have much longer to wait. He let his eyes roam over the pictures tacked to the wall, trying to decide where and when they'd been taken. Some were in front of the police station, but others weren't. He recognized the loft and the University in some shots of Jim and Blair. She must have been following them around for months.

Once again Simon tested his bindings, but he was still firmly attached to the chair and the floor. His only hope was to talk some sense into her. She was a cop - or had been a cop at one point. Maybe he could reach that part of her.

The ringing of the clock in front of him startled Simon for a moment. Glancing at it, he realized his time was up. A moment later, she entered the room and shut off the alarm.

"Well, have you made your choice?" she asked. "Please, don't do this," Simon pleaded with her. "These are good men. They don't deserve to die this way. If you want revenge, then kill me instead. It was my orders that caused your brother's death."

"I know. And I want you to remember this for the rest of your life. Maybe next time, you'll send your own team in first."

Simon shook his head. "There won't be a next time. When this is over - when I've put you behind bars for murder - then I'll turn in my badge. It will be over. Then what will you have accomplished?"

"At least you'll be off the streets. You aren't fit to be a police officer. You're supposed to save lives, not take them."

"What about you? You sound like you've been on the force - or maybe you still are. How can you justify taking an innocent person's life. Your brother knew what he was getting in to. He knew the risks. He would have done anything to stop someone else from doing this."

"Shut up!" She viciously backhanded him across the face. "Don't you dare tell me what my brother would have done! We were so close... I tried to talk him out of being a cop, but he wouldn't listen..." A sob escaped her and she spun away from him.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss," Simon said softly, watching as she struggled for control. "Let me go, and I won't press charges. We can get you help..."

She turned back around, fury evident on her face. "Help? Help?" she almost screeched. "The only help I need is to have my brother back! And somehow I don't think you can do that." She paused and took a deep breath. "Enough of this. Have you made your choice?"

"I choose myself," Simon replied. "I was there, too."

"Very well, I guess Sandburg is going to die. I'll be back when it's over." She started toward the door.

Simon let her go about ten paces before he called out, "Wait!"

She glanced back over her shoulder. "You have something else to say? Like a name, perhaps?"

"Ellison," Simon said softly, bowing his head down.

She moved closer. "I didn't quite catch that."

"I said Jim Ellison," Simon repeated, louder this time.

"Well, I must admit you've managed to surprise me. I really didn't think you would choose him." She stared at him intently for a long moment. "Why did you?"

Simon's head jerked up and he glared at her. "You wanted a name - you got a name. I don't have to explain why I chose him," he spat out.

"Fine. I'll just leave you here while I go take care of business. It shouldn't take long - I already have a spot picked out where I can get a clean shot at him when he leaves his building. Oh, and just so you know, I'm an expert marksman." With a jaunty wave, she headed for the door again.

Simon watched in despair as it closed behind her. "I'm sorry, Jim," he murmured quietly. "Blair, keep him on his toes. Please."

* SENT * SENT

Simon jerked awake with a start. It took a moment before he remembered where he was. With a groan, he rolled his head around, trying to relieve the tension in his neck and shoulders. He couldn't believe he had actually fallen asleep, considering his awkward position.

He glanced at the clock and was shocked to see it was almost 9:00 AM. By now Jim would be on his way to work.

Or he might be dead.

The thought sent a cold shudder down his spine. What if she had been successful? With an effort, Simon pushed that thought aside. He had to hold on to the hope that Jim would manage to stop her. He was the best and should be able to handle her easily.

The sound of a car door slamming made him realize what had disturbed his sleep. It must have been the sound of the overhead door opening out in the main area of the warehouse. She was back.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself for her to come to the room. He didn't have long to wait. Simon watched as she strolled across the room, nonchalantly carrying a rifle with a high-powered scope.

She set the gun down on the table in front of Simon. "Well, it's over," she announced.

Emotions surged through Simon. Rage, guilt, sorrow struggled for supremacy for a moment. Rage won out. "You'll pay for this," he growled as he pulled at his bonds. "No matter how long it takes, no matter how far you try to run, I *will* find you."

"Ooooh, you scare me," she mocked him. "First you'll have to find me. I was a cop, remember? I know how we track people down. I know what not to do. You won't be able to find me."

"You haven't come up against me or the rest of the Major Crime's team. They hang cop-killers in this state."

"I'll take my chances," she replied.

"How can you live with yourself? You killed a fellow officer!"

She shrugged. "The only thing I regret is letting Sandburg see his friend die. It really shook him up."

"You bitch!" Simon snarled.

"Sticks and stones..." she taunted him with a smile. "Well, *Captain*, it's time for me to go. I have a new identity to assume. How do you think I'd look as a redhead? Hmmm? Or should I become a blonde instead?"

Simon growled in frustration, yanking at his restraints.

She gave a little mocking laugh. "There's just one more thing before I go." She walked over to the table and pulled a small case out of her pocket. A moment later, she came over to Simon, syringe in hand. "Don't worry, it's just a little something to help you sleep," she said, quickly jabbing him in the arm.

It didn't take long for the drug to take effect. Simon struggled to stay awake, but it was too strong. Unwillingly his eyes fluttered shut and he slipped into darkness.

* SENT * SENT

Simon woke up with a pounding headache and a churning stomach. Forcing his eyes open, he realized he was still in the same room, but he was on the floor instead of the chair and the handcuffs had been removed. He slowly managed to get to his hands and knees and crawled over to the chair, using it to help pull himself to his feet. The room spun around in circles and he closed his eyes tightly trying to quell the nausea that threatened to erupt.

Breathing deeply, he finally opened his eyes up again. The pictures were still there - across the wall and the table. But there were three new items on the table. His gun, cell phone and his handcuffs. With shaking hands, Simon reached for the cell phone. Flipping it open, he hit the speed dial for the police station. A moment later he was connected to Major Crime and Joel Taggert.

"Joel, it's Simon. I've been kidnapped... drugged...She..." he couldn't say the words. He had to hold onto that last shred of hope that somehow Jim was still alive.

"Where are you, Simon?" Joel asked, his concern coming clearly over the phone.

Simon gave him directions to the warehouse and Joel promised to have squad cars there as soon as possible. With a sigh, Simon hung up the phone. He slipped his gun into his holster and stashed the cell phone and handcuffs back in his pocket before looking over at the door.

He took several deep breaths before feeling capable of trying to cross the room to the door. With lurching steps, he slowly made his way across the room, collapsing against the wall when he reached his destination. Another deep breath, then he tried the door handle, almost unbelieving when it turned easily under his hand. Swinging the door wide open, he cautiously peered out into the other part of the warehouse. Seeing no one, Simon staggered towards a door he felt certain would lead him outside. It was unlocked as well, but he remained inside. Feeling too shaky, he sank to the floor for a moment to rest.

When his head had cleared somewhat, Simon glanced at his watch. 4:00. He'd been asleep for almost seven hours. She could be anywhere by now. He heard the sound of approaching sirens and struggled to his feet again. Less than three minutes later, he saw the squad car pull up outside and he staggered out to it. He was almost there when the darkness threatened to overwhelm him again.

The officers must have realized his problem, and they both rushed to his side, supporting him the rest of the way to the car.

"Take it easy, Sir," one of them said. "We'll get you to the hospital right away."

Simon wanted to protest, wanted to go to the station so he could start looking for her. Then he realized that Jim might be at the hospital, too. He slid into the back of the squad car and rested his head against the back of the seat as the car started away from the warehouse.

He must have dozed off for a while, because the next thing he knew, they were pulling up to the doors leading to the emergency room. He felt much better, his head still ached, but it was nowhere near as bad as when he first woke up. He was steadier on his feet, too, as the officers helped him from the car.

Soon, he found himself lying down on an examination table while nurses bustled around him, taking his pulse, blood pressure, and drawing blood samples. He finally stirred himself enough to grab one of them as she turned away from him.

"Jim Ellison... can you tell me his condition? He would have been brought in this morning... gun shot wound..."

The nurse shook her head. "I don't remember anyone by that name and I've been on duty since 8:00. But I'll check for you." She lightly patted his hand. "Now, just lay back and take it easy. The doctor will be here in a minute."

Simon closed his eyes, despair fighting with hope. If Jim hadn't been admitted this morning, it could have been for two reasons. First, he wasn't shot and hadn't needed medical attention. Or second, he'd been declared dead at the scene of the shooting and had been taken directly to the morgue. When he heard the door open, he opened his eyes again.

An older man entered, graying hair combed over an obvious bald spot. He was heavyset, stood less than 6' tall, and approached the examining table at a slow pace. "I'm Dr. Summers," he announced, before performing a methodical examination.

Simon answered all the doctor's questions and kept wishing he would hurry up. It wasn't until a nurse came back into the room and handed him a sheet of paper, that the doctor finally smiled.

"Well, Captain Banks, your bloodwork came out just fine. All the lab found were traces of a heavy sedative in your bloodstream. The effects shouldn't last much longer. In fact, there's no reason to keep you here overnight," the doctor said cheerfully. "We'll just let you rest here until you feel ready to go home."

Without another word, he left the room. The nurse came over to Simon.

"I checked on Jim Ellison for you," she said. "No one has been admitted under that name today."

"Thank you for checking," Simon managed to say. The despair welled up inside him and he closed his eyes. He heard a light rapping at the door, but refused to see who it was. The sound of a familiar voice changed his mind.

"Hey, Simon," Joel said quietly. "How're you feeling?"

"Much better now. The doc said I could go home whenever I was ready." Simon looked around and realized the nurse must have left them alone.

Joel beamed. "That's good. I have Rafe and Brown checking out the warehouse now. Why don't you tell me what happened?" He pulled out a notepad and pen.

"She was waiting for me when I got home this morning. I wasn't paying attention and she got the drop on me. She then took me to the warehouse and trussed me up like a turkey. She... she said she was going to kill... Ellison," Simon said, deciding at the last moment to withhold his part in it for now. At least until he got a chance to explain to Blair...

"What?" Joel blurted out before reaching for his cell phone.

Simon listened with a growing sense of joy to Joel's side of the conversation.

"Jim? This is Joel. Listen, there may be someone after you. She kidnapped Simon... No, he's fine. I'm with him at the hospital... No, he's fine. I'll take him home..."

Simon waved his hands and got Joel's attention. "I need to talk to Jim," the captain insisted. "Today. And Sandburg, too, if he's around."

Joel relayed the information before hanging up. "They'll meet us at your place."

Simon couldn't help but grin. Jim was alive! She must have just been jerking him around - toying with him. With Joel's help, he got to his feet and together they went to the nurse's station. He signed some releases and soon they were on their way to his house. He filled Joel in on the rest of the details, writing down a description of her and the car.

As Joel pulled up in front of his house, Simon carefully scanned the area. The only vehicle on the street was Jim's truck and there was no one else in sight.

Thanking Joel for the lift, Simon asked him to go back to the station and get the investigation rolling. Joel agreed willingly and the captain climbed out of the car. Jim and Blair were there to help him immediately.

"Are you all right, Sir?" Jim asked.

Simon looked into the concerned faces of his friends. "I am now," he said with a smile. "Let's go inside."

Soon they were all settled in his study. Simon opened his desk drawer and pulled out a cigar. He ran it under his nose and sniffed in appreciation.

"You're not going to smoke that, are you?" Blair asked.

"You bet I am. It's my house and my cigar," Simon replied, grinning at them as he recalled the trip when Jim had declared his truck smoke-free. He reached for the lighter and it didn't take too long before he was puffing away. He then filled the two of them in, telling them what he'd told Joel. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he could keep his part hidden away, but decided it wouldn't be fair. Besides, she might pop up at any time and let the truth be known.

With a deep sigh, Simon finished his tale. "What I haven't told Joel is that she wanted me to choose which of my team would die to satisfy her revenge." He shook his head. "It was the hardest choice I had to make."

"I don't understand," Jim said with a frown. "Why did she think you would cooperate?"

"Because she threatened to kill Sandburg if I didn't choose." The stunned looks on the men's faces showed their opinion of her deviousness. "This may ruin our friendship, and I'll resign if that's what you want me to do... I finally picked you to be the one to die, Jim," Simon stated bluntly.

"What?" Blair erupted from his chair after a moment of silence. "You told her to kill Jim to save my life? How could you do that, Simon? Who gave you the right to choose who should live and who should die? Come on, Jim. Let's get out of here!"

"Calm down, Chief," Jim replied, his face a frozen mask. "I want to hear what else he has to say."

Blair sputtered for a few moments before reluctantly sitting down again on the edge of the chair.

Simon sighed. "First off, Sandburg...Blair... I think of you as one of my team, but you're still not a cop." He had to smile a little as Blair and Jim echoed his words as he said them. "I've taken an oath to protect civilians - even if it means loss of my life or my men's lives."

"But... but why did you have to pick Jim?" Blair asked, a quaver in his voice.

"Who would you have wanted me to pick?" Simon asked. "Joel? Rafe? Or maybe Brown?" He watched as red stained the young man's cheeks.

"Nooo," he replied reluctantly. "It's just..."

"I know," Simon agreed. "Jim is your best friend. Well, he's mine, too. I tried to offer myself, but she just wouldn't accept it." Simon shook his head again. "I finally decided Jim had the best chance to hear a sniper and stay alive. Ultimately, that's why I chose him." He leaned back in his chair and watched the two men while he finished his cigar.

Jim appeared to be in deep thought, but Blair just seemed unhappy and kept staring at the floor.

"I think you made the right choice, Sir," Jim finally said. "In your place, I would have done the same thing."

Blair looked at Jim as if he'd lost his mind, but Simon heaved a sigh of relief.

"Does this mean you won't hold this against me?" Simon asked.

"I can't fault you for doing your job," Jim replied with a light smile. "And I'd never blame you for taking drastic measures to keep Sandburg alive."

"Jim!" Blair protested.

"Listen, Chief," Jim interrupted before Blair had a chance to get started. "Remember how you got started in this? You're supposed to be an observer. I know you stay on willingly, even knowing you could get hurt or killed by hanging around me. You have a brilliant career ahead of you - in anthropology. Not to mention the book deals and movie rights..."

"Yeah, but..."

Jim turned back to Simon. "So, how did you get away? And do you have any idea how or when she's going to try to kill me?"

"I didn't get away, she let me go. *After* telling me you were dead. I wanted to rip her to shreds. She came back and told me that she'd killed you outside your apartment building."

Jim looked thoughtful. "I don't remember anything unusual this morning. I even remember looking up and around because it was such a beautiful, sunny morning."

"She might have just been toying with me," Simon suggested. "Or she might still be out there. You need to keep a sharp lookout. Start wearing a kevlar vest whenever you go outside. You too, Sandburg. Hopefully, we'll catch up to her soon."

"What about you, Simon?" Jim asked. "What if she comes after you again?"

"She wanted me to suffer, but didn't seem interested in killing me."

"Still," Jim insisted, "I think we should have a couple of officers keep an eye on your house the next few days."

The doorbell ringing interrupted their conversation. Jim went to check it out and, a few moments later, returned with Joel.

"What did you find out, Joel?" Simon asked.

"Dave Hamilton does have a sister." The detective passed over a picture.

Simon studied the photo of a young woman in a police uniform for a moment. "Yes, that's her. So, she was a cop after all."

Joel pulled out a notebook from his pocket. "Yes. Her name is Emily Hamilton. She used to work for the Portland police department. I talked to her old bosses. They spoke very highly of her, said she'd been a good cop. However, about a month before her brother died, her partner was killed in a gun battle. She made some accusations that the detectives in charge of the operation had deliberately endangered them. There was an internal investigation which cleared the detectives. She kept pushing it, claiming it was a cover up, and went to the newspapers. Things got really tense at the station - no one wanted to be partnered with her. She finally quit about a month after her brother died."

"Well, that explains it," Simon said. "Basically, that's what she accused me of - endangering the uniformed officers. Talk to Rogers, Hamilton's partner, and see if he's been contacted by her."

Joel nodded. "Already thought of that. I'll go see him next. Plus, I've got officers checking out the airport and bus stations with her picture."

"Sounds good," Simon said, before yawning widely.

"We'll let you get some sleep," Jim suggested as he stood up. "If we find anything we can call you. I'll just take a quick look around to make sure everything's secure here."

"Thanks, Jim," Simon said with a smile. While he doubted she would hang around here, he'd been unconscious for a long time. She could have easily taken his keys and left some unpleasant surprises behind. Jim's sentinel senses should be able to figure out if she'd been here.

Joel headed off while Jim checked out the house, leaving Simon alone with Blair.

"Simon, I understand why you felt the need to protect me," Blair said, "but I'm really upset that you would feel that way. Jim is special - he may be the only living Sentinel in the world. I can't believe you would risk his life just to save mine!"

"Listen, Sandburg," Simon replied. "I think you're pretty special, too. I haven't forgotten that you came to Peru to help rescue me and Daryl. Or when you helped Jim when Quinn took me hostage. Losing you would have been very difficult for me to accept - especially if I could have prevented it. It wasn't an easy choice for me to make and I hope I'm never faced with that decision again. If it had just been me..."

"I understand," Blair said. "And... I guess... well... Thanks, Simon," he finally blurted out.

"Now go find Jim and get him out of here so I can get some sleep," Simon growled.

"Yes, sir," Blair responded, giving him a cheeky salute before leaving the room.

With a sigh, Simon relaxed back in his chair, closing his eyes.

"Don't fall asleep there!"

Simon opened his eyes and saw Jim in the doorway. He stood up. "I won't. I'm off to bed now."

"Okay. We're going to go down to the warehouse and check it out. We'll let ourselves out."

"Thanks again, Jim," Simon responded. He watched as the other two men walked toward the front door before heading for the stairs. Halfway up, he heard a noise that sent a chill down his spine.

It was the sound of a gun being fired.

With a muttered oath, Simon spun around and leaped down the stairs, adrenaline surging through him, removing all traces of fatigue. He pulled out his gun as he ran to the front door. Caution took hold then and he slowly opened it. He carefully scanned the street in front of his house. Another shot sent him ducking back inside, but not before he saw Jim and Blair huddled behind the detective's truck.

He cautiously peered out again trying to assess the situation. He couldn't tell if Jim or Blair had been injured or not, but every time Jim tried to move away from the truck, another shot would ring out.

Simon headed for the back door of this house. He had a pretty good idea where the shooter was. He slipped outside and ran along the back of his house. Reaching the corner, he checked quickly before dashing over to his neighbor's house. He ran the length of that house, then raced across the street. Moving slower, he searched along the houses trying to find the shooter.

Several more shots rang out while he progressed toward the shooter's position. He couldn't believe she hadn't run off after she missed the first time. Simon finally spotted her. She was standing behind a solid wood fence that was protecting her from Jim's return fire. She squeezed off another round as he closed in on her.

"Freeze!" Simon yelled. "It's over, Hamilton!"

She spun around, and, for a moment, the rifle was lowered.

"Put the gun down, Emily," Simon almost pleaded. "Don't make me shoot you. It's over. Let me get you some help."

She didn't reply, just jerked the rifle up. Simon reacted instantly, firing his gun at her. She slammed back against the fence and the rifle flew out of her hands. Slowly, she slid down, until she was sitting on the ground, resting up against the fence.

Simon approached slowly, kicking the rifle further away when he reached it. Keeping a steady eye on her, Simon knelt down by her side. She was bleeding badly from the chest wound, and unconscious. He quickly put his gun away, then reached for her to check the wound.

Simon glanced up when a noise startled him, his hand already halfway to his gun before he recognized Jim.

"You all right, Simon?" Jim asked.

"I'm fine. What about you and Sandburg?"

"She managed to nick me, but it's just a flesh wound. Sandburg is fine."

"Good. Get an ambulance. She's still alive."

Jim disappeared from view and Simon turned back to Hamilton. Her eyes were open and she was glaring at him.

"Just take it easy," Simon said. "An ambulance is on the way."

"I should have killed you..." she managed to gasp out.

"Why did you lie to me?" Simon asked, almost without thinking. "Why did you tell me you shot Ellison this morning?"

"I wanted to be sure..." she said, grimacing in pain. "I had to know if you would feel sorrow over his death. I had to know..." She shuddered and closed her eyes.

Simon frantically checked for a pulse and heaved a sigh of relief when he found one. He didn't want her to die - he could understand why she did this. She just needed help, and he wanted to make sure she got it.

Jim returned to his side. "Ambulance should be here in five minutes," he said. "She didn't give you a choice, Simon. You had to shoot her."

"I know, Jim, but that doesn't make it an easier."

It seemed to take forever for the ambulance to arrive. Once they had Hamilton on a stretcher and loaded, Simon insisted Jim ride along with them.

"You need to have your arm checked, Jim. That's an order. Sandburg and I will follow the ambulance."

Jim protested, but Simon stood firm. Once the ambulance pulled away, Simon headed for his car.

"I think you should let me drive," Blair said, holding out his hand for the keys. "You've been kidnapped, drugged, and haven't had much sleep. I don't think you should be behind the wheel."

Simon glared at the younger man, but he just glared back. Finally, giving a sigh, the captain acquiesced and tossed the keys to Blair.

"Just don't scratch the paintwork," Simon grumbled as he headed for the passenger door.

* SENT * SENT

Simon leaned his head up against the wall of the hospital waiting room. He wanted nothing more than to go home and climb in his own bed, but felt a duty to stay here until they found out if Hamilton would survive surgery. Jim's arm had been treated - six stitches needed, but nothing serious. Now, the detective sat in the next chair, determined to stay by Simon's side. Blair had opted to stay, too, and the captain felt grateful for their support.

"Excuse me? Captain Banks?"

Simon opened his eyes to see a young man sitting in a wheelchair in front of him. "You're Officer Phil Rogers, aren't you?" Dave Hamilton's partner.

"Yes, Sir. Is there any word yet? About Emily, I mean."

"Not yet. She's still in surgery. Hopefully, it won't be too much longer," Simon replied.

Rogers looked down, a shamed look on his face. "Captain Taggert told me what she did. I'm sorry... I didn't know..."

"I understand," Simon said. "When did you last see her?"

"She came to see me when I was still in the hospital. It must have been a week after the... incident. I... I'm partly to blame - I was feeling sorry for myself, and a little bitter, too. I must have given her the wrong idea, but I never blamed you, Sir. Dave wouldn't have blamed you, either. I'm sure of that."

"Thank you for that," Simon replied. "I don't blame you, either. She needed help, but she distanced herself from anyone who could recognize it. So, how are you doing?"

"Just fine. I'm going to be back on duty soon - working as a dispatcher. I just finished my training this week."

"That's great. I'm sure you'll do a good job there, too."

"Thank you, Sir."

The arrival of the doctor interrupted their conversation. "Captain Banks?" he called out.

Simon rose to his feet, seeing Jim and Blair also stand out of the corner of his eye. "I'm Captain Banks. How is she?"

"I'm sorry - she didn't make it. The blood loss was too great. She went into cardiac arrest several times during the surgery - we couldn't revive her the last time. The heart was too weakened by then."

Simon turned away, regret flooding through him. While there was a small amount of guilt, he knew he'd had no choice. She'd given him no choice. Sometimes, no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't win. He turned back to the others.

"I'll take care of the funeral arrangements," Rogers said, tears glistening in his eyes. "It's the least I can do for Dave's sister. They didn't have any other family."

"If you need any help, let me know," Simon replied. He watched as Rogers wheeled himself away, before turning to Jim and Blair. "Let's go home."

Without saying a word, they fell into step beside him. Once again, Simon gave thanks that he had such friends. He also said a silent prayer that he would never have to choose between the two of them ever again.

The end.


End file.
